


The one that you dream on

by hisen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Colonialism, Fantasizing, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Mentioned Portugal (Hetalia), Mentioned South Italy (Hetalia), Pining, Political Marriage, Smut, Tsundere England (Hetalia), Tudor Era, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisen/pseuds/hisen
Summary: 25 July 1554: it's England and Spain's wedding night, but England is only thinking about Portugal. Until he isn't.





	The one that you dream on

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the majority of this in 2013 as part of a bigger work that didn't get completed. I found it again recently and rewrote it so it could stand alone.
> 
> Yes, the title is from Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others by The Smiths. I swear I'll stop naming stories after Smiths songs at some point, but not while England mopes.

There's no preamble as they enter the chamber that's been prepared for them. It's been prepared by his servants as if for a wedding night, which it is. England starts to feel nausea, even though this is far from the first time he's had to do this. He wishes he was anywhere else, and when he looks at Spain out of the corner of his eye he doesn't look thrilled either.

When Spain catches England looking at him he changes his expression to a smile. England knows enough about him to know it's not his real smile and he scowls in reply. 

"This isn't ideal for either of us but let’s make the best of it, si?" It's not the first time they've had to sleep together but the marriage between their monarchs makes it more formal than before. He wants to argue with Spain but the sooner they get this over with the sooner he can go back to his own chambers. 

Spain takes his silence as agreement and he steps closer to start undoing his clothes. England helps him, the silence filling the room almost as oppressive as the heat had been outside the cathedral. It should be arousing to have someone else undressing him but Spain does it like his servants do. Once he’s naked, his formal clothes made just for the wedding on the floor, he helps Spain undo his, not meeting his eyes. 

As much as he dislikes Spain, he can't deny how attractive he is, and when Spain takes his hand with a smile, leading him to the bed he can feel himself blush like a virgin bride. He guides England onto the bed and climbs over him, leaning down to kiss him. England turns his cheek. 

"No kissing." He mutters. It's one of his rules for these affairs; it feels too intimate for something that's so political. Spain sighs.

"It'll make it easier."

"You don't get that right." He snaps back, he doesn't want Spain to pretend he's courting him. "I'm not some virgin who needs seducing."

"Ay, you're trying to make this difficult aren't you?" Spain complains as he shifts off his elbows, flipping England over to lie on his front. England doesn’t respond but pushes his lower half up, almost grateful to do it this way instead so they don’t have to look at each other. He shuts his eyes and hears the uncorking of a bottle. He feels a finger brush against his entrance and he shudders. The finger stops.

"Keep going." He's muffled by the bedding underneath him but he knows Spain heard him as he eases a finger inside him. He starts to move his finger and England takes a deep breath, fingers digging into the sheets. He wiggles his hips and tries to relax. He feels another finger enter him and this is what England is familiar with, he knows what to do here. He thrusts backwards, hears Spain laugh and say something in his native tongue. Spain stretches his fingers and despite himself, England moves his head to look over his shoulder.

He's never seen the other country look as focused as he is now, he hasn't even realised England is watching him yet, he's so intent on preparing him. England wants to look away before he's noticed but he can't. It's so much like who he's been thinking about, not Spain. Even though this is all a formality and he'd prefer Spain being as rushed and rough as in the past, it's been a long time since anyone treated him delicately.

Spain finally sees him looking and smiles at him affectionately. England scowls at him and barks for him to hurry up already, embarrassed at being caught as he turns his face back onto the bed, forehead resting on the pillows. Spain pulls his fingers out and England feels the emptiness keenly as Spain leans over his back to his ear.

"I didn't know you could make a face like that." He whispers into England's ear, and he growls to hide his embarrassment. "Is that how you look at Portugal? If you're that cute with him, I'm envious." England can feel anger rising, because he doesn't want to hear about Portugal, the one country who seems to possibly like him, from Spain. 

"It's none of your business you bastard." He spits out and he wishes, like he has from the day the marriage was suggested, it was Portugal here instead. 

"I was just teasing. You did look cute though." With that Spain moves away from his ear, and he feels Spain spreading his cheeks. He slowly pushes inside England and he digs his fingers deeply into the sheets, gritting his teeth at the uncomfortable stretching inside him. When Spain is all the way inside him, he lets out a deep breath. Spain gives his hips a light squeeze. 

"I'll start moving now." He starts to thrust in and out of him, and England lets out a moan he was trying to keep in. The moan encourages Spain to speed up and England feels his desire growing. Even if Spain isn’t the country he most wants to be doing this to him, sex is sex and Spain knows what he’s doing. 

"England," Spain mutters in his ear, leaning over as he curls up to meet another of his thrusts, "I don't mind if you pretend I'm someone else."

"What?" England manages to force out, his responses dulled by the fucking he's receiving and the fact that he's never been given permission to think of someone else before (not that it’s ever stopped him). 

"I know you like Portugal, and, well..." 

"You're thinking of someone else." England finishes for him and Spain's lack of response is damning. "It's fine." It should be, but his ego is bruised by Spain’s willingness to admit that even though he doesn't want Spain to want him. He focuses on his memories of the last time he saw Portugal instead and imagines that it's Portugal behind him, Portugal touching his cock. He'd rather die than admit it, but with how close they are in looks, it's so easy to look down and see Portugal's hands on him. When he comes into Spain’s hand he has to bite down on his lips to stop Portugal's name escaping from them.

Spain pulls out of him and lies down next to him on the bed, not touching him. England turns onto his back and shuts his eyes. When he’s regained his breath he can leave and go to sleep in his own bed and not have to think about Spain for the rest of the night. 

"Was it good?" Spain asks innocently and he can't believe this idiot's angling for praise. Who the hell does he think England is?

"You were awful." He snaps. "You've got worse." Spain laughs.

"When you say it like that you sound a little like Romano. He says I’m getting worse at growing tomatoes. Ah, he's so cute. Did I tell you about..." England groans to himself but Spain continues to talk about his underling like he has every other time after sex. He wonders if Spain does this with everyone. 

"...and then he said he wants a colony in the New World but I can't afford..." England's ears perk up at that, and Spain notices his sudden interest because he quickly clarifies. "I can afford one! It's just he's my colony and colonies can’t have colonies…I think?” England huffs in annoyance.

"What would I know?" England doesn’t have colonies in the New World like Spain does. From what he's heard from Spain and the frog, colonies are small and cute. There are a lot of ways he could describe his brothers, but small and cute are not words he’d used. Hateful, big and prone to witchcraft would instead be his starting point.

"Maybe we should set up a colony together, si? We can call it...New Londres." Spain turns onto his side to grin at England, and England swats him to hide his embarrassment. He's never thought about exploring the Americas, it always seemed like it was something other countries got to do while his people argued about which religion they were. He’s certainly never been invited on an adventure before, not even by Portugal. 

"We're not going to be in a union that long, idiot." He replies back with venom, and the smile drops off Spain's face and he turns away, blowing out the candle next to them before curling up away from England. He wants Spain to say something else, something idiotic and cheery like he's been doing since the marriage was arranged, but he says nothing and soon his breathing falls into the regular pattern of sleep. 

England suddenly feels very small and very foolish. He knows that Spain is trying to make the best of a bad situation for both of them, and he keeps throwing his efforts back in his face. Spain doesn't like him – and if England is honest, why would he, there’s a reason why he doesn't have any friends and even Portugal is being more distant now he's got his own empire to worry about – but he was trying. He knows how much this marriage means to his Queen too, how desperate she is for an heir, how badly they need to keep Spain and France away from each other. 

He should get up and go back to his own bed, but he can't force himself to move, too tormented by his own stupidity. He lies there, wide awake until dawn, not sleeping but eventually still dreaming. He dreams of Portugal, first, and they make his heart ache. Dreams of before, before Portugal was out in the world, the first days of their alliance. But then another dream finally comes, less painful. A dream of the future and not the past, of far away colonies. Of tiny faces, pleased to see him, as Spain sleeps peacefully, alone, through the night in their wedding bed.


End file.
